File M for Murder (30 page)

While I waited for Teresa to give me an answer, I drummed the fingers of my free hand on the desk. The habit used to drive my late wife crazy, and I gradually trained myself not to do it anymore. I frowned and stilled my hand. When had I started doing it again?

Probably nerves, I decided. Before I could ponder it any further, Teresa spoke in my ear.

“Here it is, Charlie. Declan Lawton, 1742 Rosemary Street. He’s the only Lawton in the book. Is that what you were expecting?”

“Yes. Thank you so much, Teresa.” We chatted a moment longer, then I ended the call and stuck the phone back in my pocket.

Since there was only one listing for a Lawton in the phone book of the time, Declan had to be Connor’s father. That meant the Lawtons lived right next door to the Norrises when Connor was a child.

I found a blank piece of paper and a pencil and jotted
down the name and address. I stared at the page for a moment before I put the pencil down.

Okay, so I proved that the Lawtons and the Norrises were neighbors at one time. Also that Sarabeth still owned her parents’ house. What did that do for me?

I flashed on Connor, the night of the party, standing on the sidewalk in front of 1742 Rosemary Street and staring at it. Was he remembering the early years of his life? Or puzzled by a house that seemed strangely familiar?

Then I recalled his odd actions in the kitchen of Sarabeth’s house, how he had stared at the cabinet and then gone to open it and peer inside. Was that another memory surfacing? A sense of déjà vu on Connor’s part would explain that episode, I now realized.

How much had he remembered of his childhood in Athena? He had been four or five when his family left. Someone told me that, but now I couldn’t recall whom.

Laura was the only person I could ask about Connor’s memories, and I hoped like anything he had talked to her about them. Otherwise I couldn’t go much further with my theory.

Well, not really a theory, I had to admit to myself. I still hadn’t figured out the point of this. Connor’s early childhood in Athena might have nothing to do with his murder.

But I guess I’d read too many mysteries—like every one of Ross Macdonald’s books for a start—in which the semi-distant past weighed heavily on the present. What if that were the case here?

I glanced at my watch. A few minutes before three. Sean said he and Laura would be home around three. I debated calling Laura now because I was in such a hurry to ask my questions.

Sean and Laura’s arrival home moments later saved me the trouble. I noticed Diesel perk up on the sofa just before
I heard Sean calling out from the hallway, “Yoo-hoo, Dad, we’re home. Where are you?”

“Come on, boy,” I told the cat, but I could have saved my breath. He was off the sofa and out the door practically before the final syllable was out of my mouth.

When I stepped into the hallway, I raised my voice and responded to Sean. “Here I am. I was in the den working.”

“We’ll be in the kitchen.” Sean’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Laura sat at the table, Diesel already beside her, warbling away, and Sean had the fridge door open, head inside. He pulled out two beers and popped the caps before handing one to his sister. Spotting me, he asked, “Something to drink, Dad?”

“Some iced tea, I think, but I’ll fix it.” I waved him away, and he sat in his usual place at the table.

While I poured my tea and sweetened it, I said, “I have some rather unpleasant news for you, I’m afraid. Diesel and I had quite a bit of excitement this afternoon.”

Laura’s expression was apprehensive, and Sean’s was wary as I took my own place across from Sean.

As calmly and clinically as I could, I related to them the events of the afternoon. Neither of them spoke until I finished, and then Laura erupted into speech.

“What the devil is going on here? Who hates me enough to want to kill me? Damitra is dead, but even if she was still alive, she’d never do something like this.” Laura paused as she wrapped her arms across her chest and began to rock slightly in her chair.

Diesel knew she was upset, and he put his paws on her leg and rubbed his head against her side. She was so distressed, however, she appeared not to notice him. Sean and I both got up and went to her. I had to lean over the cat to do it, but I wrapped my arms around her.

“It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. Kanesha is really angry over this, and she’ll put a stop to it. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Whatever nutcase did this will be behind bars soon.” Outwardly calm and soothing, I did my best to reassure her. But inside I could feel my guts roiling and my temper flaring. These threats against my daughter were causing me to have thoughts of violence I normally shied away from completely.

The glint in Sean’s eyes told me he was as furious as I was. The sender of that package had better hope neither Sean nor I got to him before the police did.

Laura soon calmed down, and Sean and I resumed our places.

“Sorry, Dad,” she said. “For a moment there it was all just too much.”

“You’ve been under a tremendous strain.” I regarded her with loving sympathy. “I hate that all this has happened, because you were so looking forward to the semester.”

Laura nodded. “I really wanted to see what teaching was like. It’s something I’ve been thinking about, but with all the craziness, I’m not sure I’m doing a very good job.”

“I’m sure you’re doing great.” Sean patted his sister’s shoulder. “As soon as this is all settled, you’ll be able to focus and maybe even enjoy the rest of the semester.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Laura’s wistful tone tugged at my emotions.

“I’ve been doing research today, and it’s possible that what I’ve found out could have some bearing on the murders.” I didn’t want to upset Laura any further, but I needed to talk to her about Connor. I hoped Lawton had talked to her at some point about his childhood here in Athena and about his play.

“What have you found out?” Sean followed my lead well. He cut his eyes sideways at his sister, and I knew he was concerned about upsetting her, just as I was.

“Before I get to that,” I said, addressing Laura, “I need to ask you some questions, sweetheart. I know this could be upsetting to you, but I need to talk to you about Connor.”

Laura had a couple of sips of her beer before she responded to me. “It’s okay, Dad. I don’t mind. What do you want to know?”

I decided to start with his childhood, then move on to the play, because that seemed the logical sequence. Accordingly, I asked her, “Did he ever tell you anything about his living in Athena as a child?”

“Sort of,” Laura said with a frown. “When I first started seeing him, we had one of those talks where we discussed our families, you know, the kinds of things you always talk about at some point early in a relationship.”

Sean and I nodded encouragement, and she continued.

“He told me that his parents were dead—they were kind of older when he was born, in their forties, I think, and he wasn’t really planned. Anyway, he grew up in Vermont. His dad was an English professor there, and his mother taught piano. When I told him my father lived in Mississippi, he asked where. He laughed when I said Athena.”

She paused for more beer. “I asked him what was so funny about that, figuring he was going to say something smart-ass about the South, but instead he said he’d actually been born in Athena. His dad was a professor at the college, but they left when he was five or something.”

“That was an odd coincidence.” Sean drained his beer and retrieved another from the fridge. He checked to see if Laura wanted another, but she shook her head.

“Yeah, it was pretty weird,” Laura said. “He told me, though, that he had no clear memories of Athena, just some vague impressions of his room and the backyard where he played a lot. There was a family next door that he’d stay
with sometimes when his parents went out of town. That was about it.”

That was disappointing. I was counting on the fact that he remembered much more about those years in Athena. I wasn’t actually sure why, though. The idea was still trying to form itself in the dim recesses of my brain. I’d have to let my subconscious do its work and then hope I figured it all out.

“Even when he came back here and started living here again? Surely that stimulated his memory?” Sean expressed my thoughts more quickly than I could.

“I was talking about that conversation, months ago in LA, when we first discussed that stuff.” Laura sounded impatient. “I hadn’t gotten to things he told me more recently.”

I was relieved to hear that. “Like what?”

Laura turned to me. “Once he was back here, little things started coming back to him. There were some places that were vaguely familiar, like that old toy store on the square and a couple of buildings on campus.” She smiled sadly, and for a moment I thought tears were in the offing. She took a deep breath, however, and continued steadily. “He also made a comment or two about a house, but I wasn’t sure which house he was talking about. I think, though, it was the house they lived in here.”

“That doesn’t sound very specific.” Sean picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Couldn’t he tell you where the house was?”

Laura looked uncomfortable as she glanced at me. “He was drinking a lot.” She shrugged. “He always did when he was really into a new play. At least that’s what he told me when I complained about it.”

“I know the house he lived in,” I said, startling them both.

“How did you find that out?” Sean sounded incredulous.

“Well, I am a librarian, you know.” I grinned at them. “We know how to find things out.”

Sean laughed, and Laura smiled at me. I went into mini-lecture mode as I recounted the process by which I figured it all out. While I talked, Diesel left Laura’s side and came to sit by me. He butted his head against my leg to gain my attention, and I scratched his head as I continued my story.

“Pretty clever,” Sean commented when I finished.

“I’ll say,” Laura added. “So Connor lived in the house next door to Sarabeth and her family.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “That may explain something he said to me on the phone the other day.”

When she didn’t continue, I prompted her. “What was that?”

Laura blushed. “It wasn’t very nice, I’m afraid. I don’t want to repeat his exact words, Dad, because you wouldn’t like it.”

I grimaced. “At this point I doubt anything he said could shock me. Go ahead.”

“Me either,” Sean said. “Spill.”

“Well, okay then. He was angry about something, and when I tried to get him to tell me what happened, he wouldn’t. All he said was, ‘That fat witch’—except he didn’t say
witch
—‘may think she can shut me in like she used to, but I’m too big now.’”

I frowned. There was something odd about what Laura said, but for a moment I couldn’t quite isolate it.

Then I had it. “You said just now ‘may think she can shut me in like she used to.’ Are you sure he said ‘shut in’ and not ‘shut up’?”

Laura nodded while Sean looked on, obviously curious. “Yes, I thought it was odd, too. I tried to ask him what he meant, but he’d obviously had a lot to drink. Getting him to focus when he was drunk was difficult.”

“So who was the fat witch”—Sean grinned slightly at the euphemism—“he was talking about?”

“Sarabeth Conley,” Laura and I said in unison.

“Had to be,” I continued on my own. “She’s tall and heavy, and she gave him a dressing-down on Monday, right there on stage. He seemed a little intimidated by her, too. Plus, her family was probably the one he stayed with.”

“She did act like she knew him,” Laura said. “I wasn’t around the two of them together, except maybe twice, but
she wasn’t intimidated by him like everyone else seemed to be.”

“If she used to babysit him when he lived here, she probably wasn’t.” Sean laughed. “Like Azalea, for example. Remember that summer you and I came and stayed with Aunt Dottie for two weeks while Mom and Dad went to England? I was, what, eleven? And you would have been nine.”

A shadow passed over Laura’s face at the mention of her mother, but she managed a smile. “I’d forgotten about that, but you’re right. Once someone’s cleaned your snotty nose and supervised your bath, I guess they don’t always see you as an adult.”

I cleared my throat to get rid of a sudden lump. “Another question, sweetheart. Do you remember the context of that statement Connor made?”

“You mean what prompted him to say that about Sarabeth?” Laura asked.

“Exactly.” I of course couldn’t prove it, but I was sure now that it was Sarabeth Connor had been referring to with his rude comment.

“He was talking about the new direction he was going with the play. He had started with one set of characters, but then he decided to switch and write about different ones instead.” Laura shook her head. “I asked him why, and all he could tell me was that he felt like he had to. This story was coming to him, kind of like memories, and he just had to write about them. He wasn’t sure why.”

Sean snorted. “Probably just the bourbon talking.”

Laura looked thoughtful. “I was inclined to think that at first. But Connor said that, whenever he sat down to write, these things kind of poured out. It was slow at first, but the longer he was in Athena, the more often it happened.” She glanced at me. “Does that make sense to you?”